


Accidentally in Love

by pancake_surprise



Series: Check the Grin, You're in Love [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jose Cuervo, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Soft Sakusa Kiyoomi, Weddings, idiots to lovers, osamu and suna are so in love and so fuckin stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise/pseuds/pancake_surprise
Summary: “Hey, Osamu?”Osamu makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a hum.“How much do you remember from last night?”“Uhh, I recall a distinct urge to strangle Atsumu quelled only by Mister José Cuervo. Oh and Komori taking yer hotel key after Sakusa kicked him out.”“So you don’t remember getting married either?”
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: Check the Grin, You're in Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015891
Comments: 173
Kudos: 1150
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics, SunaOsa, SunaOsa Week 2020, fics that make my heart ~ s i n g ~





	1. Osamu.exe has stopped working

**Author's Note:**

> cw// alcohol + mention of being drunk
> 
> [playlist for accidentally in love](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1A01rwQETuPTzaLVjXgqSv&si=f8b52d9e2ea84b12)
> 
> For SunaOsa Week 2020 Day 7: Best friends/Husbands

If Osamu put more consideration into this, he probably could have predicted that Atsumu’s bachelor party would entail no less than three escape attempts and require more than one box of tissues for all the tears. Does this failure make him a bad best man? Maybe.

But that thought will have to wait. His current and biggest concern in this moment is that Atsumu is on his fourth escape attempt and he still can’t find him. Only Atsumu would insist on separate bachelor parties, get drunk, and then try to escape his “fiendish jailers” to spend the evening with his fiance, Sakusa Kiyoomi, instead. Osamu already checked all the routes he used earlier, none of which showed any sign of Atsumu.

Osamu shuts the window with a satisfying slam and grateful that, at the very least, they didn't find Atsumu attempting to scale the side of the hotel... _again._ He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and stalks back to the hotel bar. 

“Any luck?” Suna says when he spots Osamu.

Osamu shakes his head and drops into the chair next to Suna. 

“Have you tried calling Sakusa? Maybe he made it to his hotel room.” 

Osamu groans because of course he already thought of that but Sakusa Kiyoomi is just as big of an unhelpful disaster as Atsumu. He shakes his head. “Nah, it went straight to voicemail.”

Suna pokes him in the shoulder. “Stop moping. Kita and Aran are still looking, if anyone other than you could find a rogue Atsumu, it’s probably them." 

Osamu sighs and falls into the chair next to Suna. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not like he’s a little kid, sure he’s a little bit drunk but Sakusa is staying in the same hotel. He can’t have gotten far.” 

“Yea, I suppose.” 

With Atsumu gone and Kita and Aran still looking for him, the remaining bachelor party has dwindled to nearly half of its original size. Barnes, Meian, and Omimi turned in an hour ago, and had Atsumu not run off, Aran and Kita probably wouldn’t have been too far behind them. Only Bokuto, Hinata, Gin, and Tomas remain, having bonded over some obscure reality TV show in the half-hour it's been since they lost Atsumu for the fourth time. 

Osamu is too sober to deal with this but someone has to be the responsible one and he is Atsumu’s best man after all. Sober or not though, he still _lost_ the groom he’s in charge of babysitting. Great, he’s a terrible best man _and_ a terrible brother. He really hopes Kita and Aran find him or maybe he’ll wander back to the bar like how lost dogs find their way home in movies. The jury is still out on whether or not Osamu is going to kick him in the ass or hug Atsumu first whenever they do find him. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably wrong,” says Suna. 

“And just what was I thinking?” 

Suna hums and takes a sip of his beer, “well, your left eye was kind of twitching so I’m going to guess it was something along the lines of ‘woe is me, I’m a terrible brother and the worst best man and also I’m going to kick Atsumu’s ass the moment I see him.” 

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or mad that ya just called me out like it was nothing.” 

“You say that like I haven’t known you for ten years. You’re easy to read.” 

“Our entire volleyball team has known me for ten years and I don’t think Aran coulda figured that out from an eye twitch.” 

“Yeah, that was pretty spooky,” says a voice from behind them. Aran takes a seat on the other side of Suna. “I definitely couldn’t have figured that one out and I’ve known ya way longer than Suna has. You guys sure are, uh, close.” Aran laughs like he just told some clever joke. 

Suna shrugs and finishes off the rest of his beer, tilting his head back and exposing the long column of his neck in the process. Osamu looks away and wishes once again that he is far less sober than his current state. It would make many things a lot easier. 

“Is Kita still looking for that asshole?” says Osamu. 

“Nah, he went back to our hotel room. Told me he’s certain Atsumu is just fine and that he was just lookin’ to give you a bit of peace of mind, sent me back to pass the message along."

“Ugh.” 

Aran laughs. “The more things change, the more they stay the same. Well, if it’s all the same to you boys, I’m going to head back to the room. Don’t get too crazy down here.” 

They wave goodbye as Aran heads for the elevators. Once he’s out of sight Osamu’s forehead hits the bar with a loud _thunk._

“I wouldn’t worry,” Suna says. “Atsumu was putting on a show. I counted and he only had one drink in the last hour or so.” 

“That bastard, he’s probably all cuddled up with Sakusa as we speak too fuckin’ in love to bother letting me know he’s alive and not dead on a sidewalk somewhere.” 

“Be careful, wouldn’t want to sound bitter at your own brother’s bachelor’s party.” 

“It’s not his bachelor party anymore, the bachelor party portion of this evening concluded after the second escape attempt.” 

Suna hums and orders another drink from the bartender. “Here,” he pushes the glass toward him. “Where Atsumu fails you, José Cuervo will lift you back up.” 

Osamu throws back the shot and tries not to think about his stupid lovesick brother. “Thank you, Mister Cuervo, but I’ll feel a lot better once we know where Atsumu ran off to.” They don't have to wait long.

“He’s fine,” comes a voice from behind them. Komori takes Aran’s seat. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Sakusa?” says Suna.

“Oh, I jumped ship the moment Atsumu showed up. I have a sense of self-preservation.” 

“Ah, sorry, Atsumu can be the worst sometimes. Reigning him in is impossible, at least when it comes to matters involving Sakusa. Sorry ya had to deal with him too." 

“Honestly, it was a relief when Atsumu showed up pounding on the door, I was ready to booby trap the hotel room to keep Sakusa from crashing Atsumu’s bachelor’s party. It's a lot easier this way. Probably for all of us."

“Ew, they're disgustingly perfect for each other." 

Komori nods. “Yeah, you're telling me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to with a bottle of red wine and one of the big armchairs in the lobby. At this point, I can only hope that I’ll be able to return to our hotel room tonight without risking witnessing something I’d really rather not.” 

“Ah,” says Osamu. “That’s right, you were supposed to room with Sakusa tonight." 

Komori nods looking mildly ill.

“Here.” Suna shoves a hotel key card into his hand. “Take my room. If Atsumu is staying with Sakusa then I can just bunk with Osamu.”

“Oh, are you sure?” asks Komori, turning to Osamu.

Osamu waves a hand. “Take it,” he says. “Sounds like you’re going to need it. Suna can stay with me no problem. It’ll be like the old days.” 

“Right,” Komori says. “The old days. I forgot how close you guys are. I’m surprised you weren’t already bunking together.” For the second time tonight, Osamu feels like he’s missing the punch line to some joke that everyone else is in on.

“Like I said, just like old times.” 

“You two are my saviors,” Komori accepts the keycard like it’s a gift from the gods. 

“ ‘s no problem,” says Osamu. “Right, Suna?” 

“Yep, get your wine and go get some sleep Komori, sounds like you deserve it.”

"Thanks! You too _have fun-"_ Komori winks and is gone quickly as he arrived. 

“See?” says Suna like he knew what really happened all along. 

“Great, now that I know that bastard is alive I can start to plot my revenge.” 

Suna pats him on the back and orders him another drink. “Whatever floats your boat."

He downs the shot and rests his head on the bar. If Atsumu is with Sakusa then he really doesn’t have any reason to stay down here. He could go up to his own hotel room and turn in for the night without feeling a lick of guilt for abandoning the rest of the bachelor party in the bar. 

“Osamu," Suna whines. "The night is still young, you know? Don't go to bed yet, there’s still fun to be had.” 

“Sunarin, it’s a little spooky how ya keep reading my mind like it’s no big deal.” 

“Stop wearing your heart on your sleeve and I’ll be sure to do that.” 

“You know just as well as I do that I don’t wear anything on my sleeve, let alone my heart.” 

“I can only assume that sentence made more sense in your head than it did coming out of your mouth.” 

“Why do ya have to kick a guy when he’s already down?” 

“We can still have a fun night," Suna says, changing the subject.

“Whatcha have in mind?” He spares a glance back at the remains of the bachelor party. “Does it include getting outta here?” 

“There are two bars in this hotel right?” 

Osamu nods.

“You, me, José Cuervo, and Atsumu’s bar tab.” 

“Sunarin, you just might be onto something.” 

Osamu wakes up with sunlight streaming on his face and Suna draped halfway across his torso, pinning him to the bed. All in all, it’s far from the most compromising position they’ve woken up in after 10+ years of friendship and it isn’t completely unexpected. But, while he does have a vague memory of Suna giving Komori the key to his own room, it gets remarkably fuzzier from there. 

If it weren’t for the pressure in his bladder and dull throbbing behind his eyes then he’d be pretty comfortable. The leg Suna has tossed over his stomach is a warm, pleasant weight. Even the arm that’s dangerously close to crushing his windpipe is comfortably grounding, reminding Osamu that he is a real tangible person.

It’s only after going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth that Osamu is able to fully appreciate what an absolute disaster the hotel room is. Suna’s shirt hangs off the lampshade and Osamu’s hoodie is perched precariously on top of the TV. The spare pillows and blankets haphazardly litter the floor. He hopes he won the epic pillow fight battle. That might at least make his headache worth it.

Ignoring the chaotic state of the room, Osamu turns his attention to his duffle bag, digging through its poorly folded contents until he finds a bottle of aspirin. He pours a few into his hand before returning to the bathroom to fill a glass with water. With water and aspirin in hand, he pulls the curtains completely shut and pads back to the bed. 

Suna flipped onto his stomach in the few minutes since Osamu left; hand is fisted under the pillow and the other is splayed out across the bed. His mouth is twisted up into an ugly frown like even sleeping is too much work for him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Suna mumbles, eyes still shut.

“I would if I had any idea where my phone is. How else will I remember how ugly yer face is in the morning?” 

Suna cracks open an eye. “That’s for the best. Don’t forget, I have a brimming folder of blackmail material going all the way back to middle school.” Of course, he does.

“Wipe that smirk off yer face and take this,” Osamu shoves two of the aspirin and the water under Suna’s nose. “Yer gonna need them.” 

Suna wrinkles his nose but accepts them without argument. “Now stop looking at me all weird and get back in bed,” he hands Osamu the glass so that he can take his own aspirin. “It’s too early for this.” 

“I always look at ya like this,” Osamu says, peeling back the covers. 

“I know.”

“Ah shaddup and go to sleep.” 

Osamu gracelessly climbs into bed, flopping down onto his back and spreading out like an overgrown starfish. 

“Ugh,” Suna says, turning to lay on his back. “Why are you like this?” 

“Admit it Sunarin, you love it.” 

“Gross. I want to go back to sleep, jackass.”

Osamu shuffles closer until he has his head tucked into the crook between Suna’s shoulder and neck, one arm thrown over Suna’s chest. “This better?” 

Suna hums and shuts his eyes. “Go to sleep, Osamu.” 

The next time Osamu wakes up Suna is already awake and scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other holding Osamu where he’s laying on Suna’s chest. 

“Hey, Osamu?” 

Osamu makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a hum. 

“How much do you remember from last night?” 

“Uhh,” how much _does_ he remember? He remembers Atsumu successfully ditching his own bachelor party after three previous failed attempts. Then lamenting his sorrows at the bar with Suna and Komori gratefully accepting Suna’s room key after Atsumu barged into his own hotel room. It gets remarkably fuzzy after that. 

“All I got is the urge to strangle Atsumu more than usual, quelled only by Mister José Cuervo. Oh and Komori taking yer key after Sakusa kicked him out.” 

Suna frowns, still scrolling through his phone. “So you don’t remember getting married either?” 

Married? Last night was the bachelor’s party, not the wedding. Wait. Who? 

“Me?” Osamu spits out eventually. “Married?” 

“You. Me. Us.” 

“We got married?” 

“Yes.” 

“You and me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Where? How? When?” 

“I have no idea." 

“No,” Osamu says, sitting up. “No way. There’s no way we'd do something that stupid," he hesitates. "Right?" 

“Check your phone.” 

“Can’t, don't know where it is.” 

“Ugh, here.” Suna shoves his own phone into Osamu’s hands then dives back under the blankets and smashes his face into the pillow.

Suna has the camera roll open to a phone of Osamu doing a tequila shot at what he’s pretty sure is the hotel’s second bar. Nothing much there, definitely no evidence of the wedding, and truthfully pretty par for the course. He swipes to the next photo. Okay, this one is perhaps just the tiniest bit more incriminating. It’s a selfie of him and Suna in front of a shoddy chapel and an Elvis impersonator between them. Just because they took a photo in front of a wedding chapel doesn’t mean they actually did the deed. It just means they have a good sense of humor. 

The third photo changes the game entirely. They’re at the altar now, Elvis impersonator and all. Suna has Osamu’s hands in his own and Osamu is looking at him with an expression that can really only be described as lovesick. 

“Holy shit.” 

“I know,” Suna says, voice muffled by the pillow. “I’ve only ever seen you look at food like that. How drunk were you?”

Osamu swipes again. The final photo is of the two of them standing underneath a neon ‘just married’ sign. Their arms are wound around the other’s back and they’re grinning wide enough that it makes Osamu’s face hurt just to look at it. It sure does look like they got married. 

“This has to be a joke,” Osamu says. “There’s no way.” 

Suna takes the phone back and squints at the photos. “I don’t know. That’d be a pretty elaborate joke. Especially considering there was no one other than us around to appreciate it.” 

“Drink enough tequila and anything is funny.” 

Suna sighs. “I guess this does seem like the kind of thing you’d try to get back at Atsumu. Only you would actually go through the trouble of staging a wedding just to be an asshole.”

“Ya know me so well, Sunarin. Maybe I shoulda married ya for real.” 

“In your dreams.” 

They get breakfast at a diner Osamu can find even though by the time they drag themselves out of the hotel it’s nearly noon. He sets his sights on the greasiest diner he can find; in his experience, the greasier a diner looks, the better the food tastes. It’s science. And this diner looks downright disgusting, the exact kind of place to fight off a hangover and yet Suna has the audacity to say that he isn’t going to get anything.

“You gotta eat, Suna. How else are ya gonna grow big and strong?” 

Suna blanches and pushes the menu away. “Not hungry and I’m already big and strong.” 

“Exactly, just cause yer on vacation doesn’t mean yer professional athlete metabolism is. Ya gotta eat.” 

“No.” 

“Ya know, yer a real pain in my ass.”

When the waiter returns to the table, Osamu orders himself the biggest breakfast platters on the menu plus a bowl of rice and a single boiled egg for Suna. 

“Said I didn’t want anything.” 

“Too bad. Yer not gonna pass out on my watch.” 

Suna taps on his phone while they wait for their food to come. Osamu sits back in the booth and watches the way Suna’s lips quirk up at the edges whenever he finds something amusing. Even hungover, with dark bags under his eyes and skin paler than ought to be considered healthy, he’s still pretty with the sunlight reflecting off his hair and highlighting one side of his face. 

“Alright, I have the farmer’s breakfast for you and a boiled egg with a side of rice for you,” the waiter sets the dishes onto the table. “Anything else I can get for ya?” 

“I think we’re alright,” says Osamu. 

They eat in relative silence which is unsurprising considering how starving Osamu feels and how sick Suna looks. It’s long after Osamu finishes his breakfast that he finally breaks and decides that half the egg and a few bites of rice are all he can reasonably expect Suna to eat. 

“How do ya even survive without me?” Osamu says as he scrapes the rest of Suna’s breakfast into his own bowl. No sense in wasting good food.

“You know, I’ve survived seven years without you breathing down my neck.” 

“I know, it’s how ya managed it that I’m tryin’ to work out.” 

“I had no idea you cared so much. But, then, you are my husband now so I suppose caring is a part of the job description.” 

“Joke-husband,” Osamu corrects. 

“Whatever you say, dear.” 

Osamu glares but it does little to hide the blush that’s spreading across his cheeks. “Right, like I’d ever marry ya, Sunarin.” 

Suna hums and sits back in his seat. He’s got a smirk across his face like he’s hot shit or something. Not for the first time, Osamu wants to kiss it off his stupid face. But like, in a bro way. Definitely not a fake husband way. 

“We ought to get back,” says Osamu. “Rehearsal dinner is in a couple of hours. Gotta go put out any fires Atsumu starts before they get too outta hand.” 

“Sure, I wanna get a nap in before we have to get dressed.” 

Osamu rifles through his wallet for his debit card but stops cold when he sees it. The photos might not have proved it, but _this_ certainly does. “Oh shit.” 

“Osamu?” says Suna without looking up from his phone.

Wordlessly, Osamu hands over the little piece of paper that was tucked carefully into his wallet. Suna, sensing the gravity of the situation, puts down his phone for the first time since they arrived at the diner and carefully reviews the offered piece of paper. 

“I need a drink,” Suna says as if that wasn’t what got them into this mess in the first place. 

“Yer tellin’ me. We’re _married-_ married.” 

“What the fuck do we do now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering what they did last night to destroy their hotel room, the answer is obviously an epic pillow fight.
> 
> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	2. data cannot be properly encrypted

Prior to this occasion, Osamu’s understanding of wedding rehearsal dinners was that they are generally just for the people who are physically in the wedding. Which, in Atsumu and Sakusa’s case, is very few people. The grooms included, there are only four people in the wedding party: the grooms and the best men. Osamu doesn’t even understand why they're having a rehearsal dinner at all. How hard is it to get four people down the aisle? And he definitely doesn’t understand why in addition to the four person wedding party, there are nearly 50 other people in attendance. Now he’s stuck making small talk with one of Sakusa’s aunties, Komori, and a handful of others from the Jackals and Inarizaki. 

“I thought this thing was supposed to be the wedding party only. Real quick run through and then we can all go on our merry way.” 

“When are things with Atsumu ever that simple?” Aran laughs.

“Or Sakusa for that matter?” says Inunaki. “They’re both crazy.” 

“They’ve got you there,” comes a voice right over his shoulder. Suna hooks his chin over Osamu’s shoulder and leans into him, grinning like he’s hot shit or something. Kita looks between Osamu and Suna and then back again. He smiles softly and Osamu gets the feeling that Kita just peered deep into their souls and was pleased with what he found.

“Ah, no one asked ya,” says Osamu. “I’m just saying, we’re already having a massive party tomorrow, for the actual wedding. What do we need this one for?” 

“Ya know Atsumu, he’s a sap at heart. He was excited to have everyone in town and wanted to take full advantage of it,” says Kita.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Or he just likes the attention,” he and Suna say at the same time.

“I think it’s fun,” says Komori. “It’s like everybody who's ever touched a volleyball in the country of Japan is here. We should have had the rehearsal dinner in a gym instead. When you two tie the knot, you should do that,” Komori says, looking Suna dead in the eyes like the little shit he is. 

“That’s a great idea!” says Inunaki. 

“Yer crazy if ya think I would touch a volleyball with all you monsters here. I do have a sense of self-preservat- wait. When we do what?” Says Osamu. 

Aran, Kita, and Komori look between each other before cracking up. 

“Speaking of weddings,” says Sakusa’s aunt. “Are there wedding bells in your future?” 

Osamu and Suna choke.

Being Atsumu’s best man isn’t as bad as Osamu wishes he could make it out to be. Atsumu is a high maintenance, dramatic bastard but he’s still the same bastard that Osamu spent spending 18 years sharing almost everything with: a bedroom, friends, a volleyball team. After the chaotic bachelor party, there is only so much that Atsumu can toss at him that Osamu can’t meet without hesitation. That being said, a nervous Atsumu is not an Atsumu that Osamu is much acquainted with. 

“I’m not sure if anyone’s told ya this but yer not supposed to be nervous at the rehearsal dinner. This is the easy part. Tomorrow is the one for freakin’ out.” 

“I’m not nervous,” says Atsumu. 

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m not nervous, yer just dumb.” 

“The lack of creativity in that insult just proves my point even more.” 

“What are ya, a mind reader now or somethin’?”

“Yer the worst,” says Osamu.

“Yer not allowed to mean to me, yer supposed to be supportive. Forget best man, I shoulda asked ya to be the worst man. I bet Komori is a great best man!” 

Osamu fists a hand into Atsumu’s tee shirt and drags him out of the venue and into the abandoned hallway. 

“Just tell me what’s on yer mind so I can convince ya yer wrong and then we can all move on and get this rehearsal dinner on the road.” 

Atsumu deflates. His eyes dim and shoulders sag making him appear to shrink in a matter of seconds. A cold lump forms in Osamu’s stomach as he takes in the stark contrast between this Atsumu and the one that was hanging off of Sakusa, lovesick smile and all, only fifteen minutes ago. 

“Tsumu?” 

Atsumu bites his lip and rocks back forth on his heels. “Samu why do ya think Kiyoomi is marrying me?” 

Osamu reels back like he’s been punched. This is uncharted territory. 

“Whatdya mean? Don’t be stupid.” 

“I dunno, just, what do I have goin’ for me other than volleyball?”

“And what, Sakusa has so much more than volleyball? Yer not makin’ any sense.” 

“Of course he has more going for him than volleyball! He went to college! He’s smart and he’s funny and he puts up with all my bullshit and only complains about it when we both know I deserve it. Everyone thinks he’s got this mysterious air about him but it’s all a facade. Once ya get to know him ya see that he’s actually a huge, sweet dork who lays face down on the court after a grueling match or practice,” Atsumu sniffles. “What am I gonna do, Samu?”

Osamu takes a deep breath and tries to quell the urge to slap sense into Atsumu. 

“Tsumu, I dunno how to tell ya this but ya have never said anything more stupid in yer entire life.”

Atsumu scowls. 

“All those reasons ya just listed about why ya love Sakusa, he’s got a list that's just as long and I’m sure he gets that same twinkle in his eye that you get when he talks about ya. I crack a lot of jokes but I’d be the stupid one if I couldn’t admit that yer perfect for each other. If yer that worried, ask Sakusa himself why he’s marrying ya. After he smacks ya upside the head, I’m sure he’d be happy to list everything he loves about ya.” 

“Ya think so?”

Osamu fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, why would I lie about somethin’ like that?” 

“Yer a good brother,” Atsumu says, punching him lightly on the arm. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get sappy on me. Anythin’ else on yer mind before ya go back in there?” 

“Well...”

“We don’t have all day, Tsumu.” 

“Okay, but what if the cake gets toppled over? Or if the DJ doesn’t show up? What if the DJ plays the wrong song for our first dance? What are we gonna do if one of the vendors accidentally double booked themselves and they can’t make it? Or if the flower girl trips on the way down the aisle. I don’t know how to comfort a crying four-year-old, Samu.” Atsumu’s voice goes higher and higher the longer he talks and, to Osamu’s horror, not all of Atsumu’s fears are ridiculous. Almost any of them could very much come to fruition. If he wasn’t stressed before, he is now. 

“Tsumu- Tsumu- TSUMU!” he says, interrupting Atsumu’s seemingly unending train of thought. “All those things are for ya to worry about. Komori and I are the best men, if any of that stuff happens, we’ll handle it. All you need to worry about is how many tissues ya need to stuff in yer pockets for when ya start crying at the ceremony. Okay?”

Atsumu nods. “Okay. Thanks, Samu.” 

“Now listen up, I’m not gonna say this again. I’m real proud of ya and ya deserve to be happy. Now get back in there and find yer man.” 

“Aww, Samu!” 

“Shut. It. Or I’ll put bleach in yer shampoo.”

Atsumu mimes zipping his lips and turns to head back into the room they’re all crammed in for the rehearsal. He stops at the doorway when he realizes Osamu isn’t following. “Are ya comin’?”

“In a minute, if ya pass Suna, would ya mind tellin’ him to come out here?” 

Atsumu gives him a weird look but nods his head anyway. “Whatever you say.” 

True to his word, Suna appears hardly more than a minute later. 

“You called?” Suna says, shutting the door behind him. 

Osamu grabs Suna by the shoulders the moment he’s within striking range and gives him a good shake. 

“Woah,” Suna wraps his hands around Osamu’s wrists and holds on. “What’s up with you?” 

“I already lost Tsumu at his own bachelor party, what if more stuff gets messed up tomorrow? What if it’s stuff that Komori and I can’t fix? What if I somehow ruin Atsumu’s wedding?” 

Suna grips his wrists tighter and in one simple gesture, Osamu already feels calmer. 

“Where did this all come from?”

“He’s the worst but it’s his wedding and I’m the best man so I gotta take all Atsumu’s stress and absorb it myself so he can have a good time.” 

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?” says Suna. “Besides, I don’t think it counts as losing him when all he did was run to Sakusa, you know, the man he’s marrying tomorrow.” 

Osamu doesn’t answer. 

“You’re impossible sometimes. And if you keep looking at me like a scared deer then your face is going to get stuck like that. It’s already a shame that Atsumu and Sakusa’s wedding photos are gonna have to have your ugly face in them. Don’t make it any worse.”

“Gee thanks. Ya always know just what to say, Suna. So glad I asked ya to come out here.” 

Suna tugs him forward, just a step, and sighs like this is the most bothersome thing he’s had to do all week. “Even if those things go wrong, the wedding is about Sakusa and your brother. Not the cake or the DJ or anything else that Atsumu was freaked out about.” 

Osamu lets out a breath. “Shit, Suna. That was actually good. Who even are ya?” 

“Your husband apparently. It’s my job now to stop you from being stupid. It might not be much, but it’s honest work.” 

“I take it all back.” 

“Too late. I’m the better husband and you know it.” 

“Are ya tryin’ to tell me you think yer the better husband? Who's the one that bought ya breakfast this morning, huh?” 

“That’s rich, who’s the one who ate my breakfast?” 

“I wouldn’t have had to eat it if ya weren’t so hungover and could actually stomach more than a few bites of rice.” 

“As if you weren’t equally hungover.” 

“Yeah, well who brought ya aspirin this morning? Hmm? Who dragged their ass outta bed, the warm, warm bed, to make sure ya didn’t wake up with a headache?” 

“Oh yea-” Suna stops mid-sentence. The door opens.

“Am I interrupting something? Lovers quarrel?” Atsumu says. His tone says he’s joking shifts when he catches sight of the two of them. “Wait,” he says looking between Suna and Osamu several times. “Am I interrupting something? 

Suna still has Osamu’s wrists in a vice grip and there is hardly more than 10 centimeters between them.

“Shut yer trap, Tsu-”

“Something’s off. Something’s different here.”

“What are ya going on about?” says Osamu. 

“Oh my god,” Atsumu’s eyes go wide. “Oh my _fucking_ god.

“You already said that,” Osamu growls. 

“You and Sunarin got married!” Atsumu screeches. “I can’t believe this! The betrayal! 

“Wha-” 

“No, shut up Samu. I don’t know whether I want to kill you right now or if I’m relieved you guys finally did something about it. This is too much, I shoulda included, BETRAYED BY MY OWN BROTHER, in my list of pre-wedding anxieties earlier. Holy shit.” 

Suna lets go of Osamu’s wrists and he immediately misses the contact. 

“What are ya talking about?” Osamu says. “Why would we get married?” 

“I dunno, maybe because you’ve been pining after each other for the past nine years? Ya really are the worst, Samu, do ya know that?” 

“How could you tell?” Suna says, speaking for the first time.

Atsumu gestures vaguely as if that’s supposed to explain everything. “I might not sound it right now, but I swear, I am so mad at you two.”

“Yer literally screeching, I think we get it.” 

Atsumu continues anyway. “I can’t believe ya didn’t tell me you and Suna were gonna elope! I can’t believe ya didn’t tell me you and Suna were dating! Yer the worst brother in the world!” Atsumu turns his attention to Suna. “And you!” 

“I don’t see what I have to do with this.” 

“Shut up, I’m not through screechin’ yet. Suna Rintarou, yer supposed to be the smart one! The one that keeps this idiot in line! And ya both just go behind my back, cut my fragile heart to pieces, and GET MARRIED?” Like the obnoxious bastard he is, Atsumu actually pinches the bridge of his nose and starts pacing around the hallway. “Did ya tell anybody? Mom? Dad? Auntie Suna? Kita?” 

“Nope,” Osamu says, popping the ‘p’. If Atsumu wants to be dramatic about this, then he can meet him toe-to-toe. He doesn’t add that they’re hardly even aware of their elicit marriage ceremony themselves. All they have is a scrap of paper with an official signature and a few photos on Suna’s phone to show for it. Maybe there’s more on Osamu’s phone, if he ever finds it. For all he knows, it’s at whatever shoddy chapel they got married in at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night. 

“I don't have time for this,” says Atsumu. “I have more important things to attend to right now than dealing with backstabbing brothers like you two. Right now, I’m just gonna congratulate ya for getting yer head out of yer asses for the first time in yer 25 years of life and get back to _my_ rehearsal dinner.” Atsumu turns to go, mumbling, “can’t believe ya thought ya could pull one over on me like that. And they say I’m the dumb one.” 

The hallways are remarkably silent once Atsumu’s is gone. They stand there for a moment, relishing in the peace. 

“That was something,” says Suna.

“Yer tellin’ me.” 

“How the hell did he know just by looking at us?” 

“It pains me a whole lot to admit it, but Tsumu isn’t as dumb as I make him out to be. At least sometimes. What a bastard.” 

Suna hums. “You forgot to tell him that we got married by mistake.” 

Osamu shrugs. “Plenty of time for that when this weekend is over and Atsumu and Sakusa are happily married. Besides, I’m not in the mood for another lecture and from Atsumu of all people.” 

“Wow, who knew I married such a sap.” 

“Shut up, Sunarin.” 

To Osamu and Komori’s relief, the wedding ceremony goes off without a hitch and, with only the photos left to deal with before the reception begins, Osamu is feeling pretty great about the whole thing. It’s the home stretch now.

“Suna Rintarou, _how_ do ya get by without me around?” Osamu pulls Suna in by the necktie and hastily unties the knot. “Ya wore a tie to school everyday for years and yet yer still absolutely hopeless. It’s a good thing ya married me or you’d be shit out of luck.” 

“Of course, because you never once fixed my tie before we were married. Oh, wait.”

“I know ya think yer clever-”

“Because I am.” 

“-but you ain’t shit.” 

“What does that say about you, then? You’re the one who married me.” 

Osamu finishes fixing Suna’s tie but doesn’t let go. He’s staring at the stupid smirk on Suna’s face. 

“Take a picture,” Suna pushes him away. “It’ll last longer.” 

“I don’t have to, the photographer over there is gonna do it for me. Then I’ll have professional photos of my beautiful husband to stare at while he’s away fighting in the volleyball war.” 

“Don’t be gross,” Suna tries to push him away. “Besides, I’m not gonna be in any of the photos, in case you forgot, I’m neither family nor in the wedding party.” 

“Now that’s just not true,” comes a voice from behind them. Atsumu throws an arm around each of them. “Just cause ya aren’t telling anyone that yer married doesn’t mean ya can get out being in the wedding photos my dearest brother-in-law.”

“Tsumu, ya better keep yer voice down.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t told a soul.” 

Osamu fixes him with a look.

“Alright, fine. I told Kiyoomi but we’re married now so it doesn’t count.” 

“No one else, Tsumu, or I swear to god I will sabotage the wedding cake.” 

Atsumu holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Although I don't know why yer keeping it a secret. Besides, this is my wedding and yer crazy if ya think I’m lettin’ you two take any of the spotlight. Now go line up for the photographer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	3. An ID10T Error Has Occurred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by Shind!](https://twitter.com/Shind_rei/status/1325395183832199168)

Osamu makes it into the reception hall last, lagging behind the rest of wedding party with Suna. By the time they make it past the head table, Sakusa and Atsumu are already seated. The head table, normally used for wedding parties far larger than theirs, has far more space than the four of them could reasonably occupy. To no one's surprise, Atsumu took it upon himself to fill up some of the space on the other side of Osamu with seats for Kita and Aran. On the other side of the grooms, two of Sakusa’s other cousins sit directly to Komori’s left. 

“Oh no, this won’t do,” Atsumu says, standing and gesturing to the seating arrangements at the head table. His mouth is twisted up like the salad plate itself has managed to offend him. 

Osamu’s pulse quickens. Did the venue mess something up? Are the place settings wrong? The flowers? This best man thing is arguably the most stressful job he's ever had. And to think, he won't even be able to get revenge on Atsumu at Osamu's own wedding thanks to Mister Jose Cuervo. 

Suna elbows him in the gut. “Relax. Your face is ugly enough without the nerves giving you wrinkles. Atsumu is just being Atsumu." 

“Yer elbows are sharp, Sunarin," Osamu hisses. "That _hurt."_

“Good, that was the point.” 

Osamu elbows him back.

"Jeez, Osamu, don't pull your punches or anything." 

“Boys,” says Kita from where he's seated. 

Suna and Osamu instantly stand a little straighter and Suna drops the fist he was about to dig into Osamu's bicep. 

"Thank you," says Kita. They nod. 

“We need another chair up here.” Atsumu pulls his own chair over until it’s practically flush with Sakusa’s. How they’re both going to fit in a space that tight, he has no idea. Maybe Atsumu is planning on just shamelessly sitting in Sakusa’s lap for the majority of the reception. 

“That’s my cue,” says Suna. “I’m going to go find my seat. Good luck with,” he gestures to Atsumu, “whatever is going on here.” 

“No, nope, park it,” says Atsumu. “Please, someone, we need another chair.” He flags down a passing waiter, requesting another chair and table setting. "Samu, be a gentleman and let Suna sit in yer chair we get another one." 

“Why?” says Osamu even though he has a feeling he isn't going to like the answer. 

“For Suna,” Atsumu says like it’s obvious. Sakusa snorts, Suna groans, and Komori looks like he's trying his hardest not to burst into laughter. 

“Suna? Why?” A silent conversation passes between Osamu and Atsumu. 

_Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it._

_Relax. I've got this all under control. You can thank me later._

Osamu very much does not relax. 

“It's obvious isn't it?" says Atsumu. 

"Watch it, Tsumu," Osamu growls. 

"S-. Su-Sun- He's-" Atsumu pounds on his chest. His face contorts into something pinched and ugly. Osamu would make fun of him for it if Kita wasn't right on the other side of him. "Sunar-" 

“Don’t strain yourself there, Tsumu. Just drop it." 

“Su-” Sakusa hits him on the back as if Atsumu is choking and not simply acting like the dramatic bastard he is. “Suna- Omi, please, champagne, I need champagne. Quick.” Sakusa shoves a champagne flute in Atsumu’s waiting hand before grabbing a glass of his own. Atsumu tosses back the champagne like it’s a shot of Jose Cuervo and not an over-carbonated sticky mess waiting to happen. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and slams the glass back onto the table. Wordlessly, Sakusa hands him another. Atsumu takes a comparatively dainty sip compared to his previous glass before speaking again.

“ _SUNA_ needs a chair. Because _Suna_ is one of my best friends. _Of course_ , he should be at the head table with us,” Atsumu looks between the two of them. “And what better place than right on the other side of you, Samu?"

The waiter returns with the chair followed by another with the spare table setting.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll go fin-” Suna tries. 

Kita cuts Suna off. 

“Sit in the chair, Suna Rintarou.” Kita says it with a smile but Osamu and Suna have had enough practice to know that this is not an argument they have any chance of winning now that Kita is involved. “You too, Osamu.”

Suna sits and Osamu reluctantly falls into the chair next to him. Fuck Atsumu and the all-knowing twin bullshit.

“Thank you,” says Kita. “And remember you two, this is Atsumu and Sakusa’s day. What they want, they get. You’ll get yer chance when you two get married.” 

The glance Suna and Osamu give each other doesn't go unnoticed by Kita but he only hums and turns his attention back to the grooms. How is it Atsumu's wedding and yet Osamu can't help but feel like he's the wonder under scrutiny? 

Dinner goes by quickly; Osamu spends most of it pointedly ignoring the weird glances Atsumu, Sakusa, Kita, and Komori give him and Suna every few minutes. 

“Who do you think proposed, you or me?” says Suna once they’re finally alone. Everyone else vacated the table after dinner to mingle with the rest of the guests. “I’ve thought about it a lot but I can't decide.” 

Osamu hums and leans back in his chair. That’s a tough one. Osamu is less impulsive than his brother but even he is prone to make split-second decisions, throwing caution to the wind. Proposing to Suna certainly could be one of those split-second decisions. But then, so could accepting Suna’s own drunken proposal. 

“How do we know Jose Cuervo himself didn’t put us up to it?” Osamu says. 

“I think that’s a given.” 

“Does that make Jose Cuervo our joint best man or maybe the officiant?”

“No, Elvis was the officiant. Best man, I suppose.” 

“Ah, right." 

The DJ starts up the music, drawing their attention to the dance floor. “Alright folks, it’s time for the Atsumu and Sakusa’s first dance as a married couple,” says the DJ. The lights go down as Atsumu and Sakusa begin to sway to a mellow tune. ABBA, if Osamu remembers correctly. Atsumu went through about fifty songs trying to decide on the perfect medley, eventually settling on one that wasn't even on the list to begin with.

_I don’t know what you do. You make me think that you possibly could release me. I think you’ll be able to make all my dreams come true. And you ease me._

Sakusa leans down, just slightly, and whispers something in Atsumu’s ear. His eyes crinkle with a smile so genuinely happy that Osamu can’t help but smile the tiniest bit too just from watching. As much as he would love to lament how gross and obnoxious their obvious display of affection is, he can’t find it within himself to do so. It’s painfully clear that Atsumu and Sakusa are nearly made for each other. Osamu is happy for his brother. 

_You thrill me. You delight me. You please me. You excite me. You’re something I’d been pleading for. I love you, I adore you. I lay my life before you._

“They look good,” says Osamu. 

Suna hums and leans into Osamu’s side, ducking his head until it’s resting on his shoulder. “Yeah, they do.” 

_I’ll have you want me more and more. And finally, it seems my lonely days are through. I’ve been waiting for you._

“What kind of wedding do you want?” Suna says, still watching Atsumu and Sakusa waltz around the dance floor. 

Osamu freezes. 

“You know, when you get married for real one day and not in the middle of the night to your high school best friend under the influence of tequila,” says Suna.

Truth be told, Osamu hasn't ever given his wedding much thought.

“Sunarin, are ya sayin’ that our marriage isn’t real? I’m hurt,” says Osamu.

He meant it as a joke but he’s unable to completely mask the pang of sadness that courses through him when imagining marrying someone who isn't Suna. Some faceless person standing next to him under the gaze of dozens of other people, it’s enough to make him shudder.

Picturing Suna next to some faceless person is even worse, sending a wave of nausea rolling through his stomach. He wants to say he isn’t going to marry anybody else. Why would he when he already has Suna?

“I don’t want all this fanfare,” Osamu says instead. “Somethin’ simple. Just the important people would be invited. Or maybe I’d elope anyway. Sober though, sorry Jose Cuervo. What about ya?” 

“Hmm, never really pictured my wedding. And even though we’re technically married, I still can’t really imagine it. Doesn’t seem real.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Suna shrugs against Osamu’s shoulder. “I dunno. Not like I've been dating or anything. ‘S not really relevant. But, if I had to pick, I think I’d elope. After all, a wedding is supposed to be about you and the person you wanna marry, right? I don’t see why I’d need all the people and niceties. But marriage is about being in a partnership and I wouldn’t be the only one making the decisions about the wedding so who knows what it would look like?” 

“Only you would overthink a hypothetical wedding.” 

“Yeah, well, what do I need to think about it for? I’m already married to you, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah,” Osamu says. “Yeah, ya are.”

For how long though? They haven't talked about it yet but surely they can't just _stay married._ The annulment period gives them more than enough time to get it done but that would require actually talking about the fact they are really, honest-to-goodness, married. For some reason, Osamu feels he would almost rather die than bring it up. 

Atsumu and Sakusa’s song comes to an end. 

_And finally it seems my lonely days are through. I’ve been waiting for you. Oh, I’ve been waiting for you._

The DJ puts on an upbeat pop song and everyone floods the dance floor. Kita appears on the other side of Suna, tugging him off Osamu and onto his feet nearly giving Osamu whiplash in the process. 

“Ah Suna, just who I was lookin’ for,” Kita says and then they’re gone, absorbed into the still growing crowd. 

Osamu stays at the table, content to watch his friends and family do the cha-cha slide and the cupid shuffle. He catches sight of Suna a few times on the periphery of the dance floor, accepting a drink from one of the bartenders before diving back into the fray. 

Suna looks good out there with his dress shirt rumpled, the tie Osamu so carefully fixed earlier is long gone and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. It’s mesmerizing. A couple of times he thinks Suna is coming back but then Kita is there to grab him by the wrist and pull him away. 

"Ya ought to take a picture," Atsumu drawls when he makes his way back over to poke and prod and bother Osamu. "It'll last longer." 

"I don't know what yer talking about. Aren't ya supposed to be with Sakusa? Ya know, yer husband?"

Atsumu waves a hand. "He's gettin' us a drink, don't ya worry about that." Sure enough, Sakusa appears over his shoulder only moments later, a glass of wine in each hand. "You know, ya could come join everyone out on the dance floor. I'm sure Sunarin would love nothin' more than to dance with ya even with that sorry lookin' expression you've got on yer face." 

"I'll pass." 

Atsumu frowns. "Suit yerself, I suppose." They sip their wine far quicker than should be legal before they too disappear back into the crowd.

Osamu saunters over to the bartender eventually ordering two shots of the old tried and true, Jose Cuervo. He downs them in quick succession, thanks the bartender, and heads to lean against the back wall of the reception hall. Briefly, he considers hopping into the mess of bodies dancing to Party Rock Anthem but decides against it. He’ll need more than two tequila shots for that. 

The longer the night goes on, the more unhinged the dancing gets. Bokuto and Hinata start to do the worm until Akaashi and Meian drag them up by their collars, shouting about how they’re going to get trampled when the song changes again, this time to the Cotton Eyed Joe. They must escape though because hardly two minutes pass before they're back out there; this time doing the chicken dance despite the DJ playing a party remix of The Twist. 

Suna appears again, looking toward Osamu’s empty seat at the head table and frowning. Komori and Kita appear on either side of him and he disappears from view again. Osamu sighs. He doesn’t know what _this_ is but it wasn’t how he anticipated his brother’s wedding reception going. The reception is supposed to be the best part of any wedding. All of the stressful parts are over with, no tie is required, there’s the food, way fewer tears, the food, an open bar, _the food._

He’s the worst. It’s his brother’s wedding and he’s moping in the corner, like what, he doesn’t know. The DJ puts on another slow song. 

_If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lay with me and just forget the world?_

Osamu lasts all of thirty seconds before he books it for the hallway. He loves his brother, he really does but if he has to watch couples flood the dance floor, staring into each other’s eyes like they contain the sun, moon, and stars, he might actually combust. 

He leans against the wall and sinks to the floor and lowers his head between his knees. There’s too much running through his head to process right now. He takes a shuddering breath. None of this makes any sense. There’s nothing to be upset about. And definitely nothing so bad that should have him cowering in the hallway, afraid of a slow song. 

“I think he went through here,” Atsumu says, opening up the door, Sakusa trailing behind him. Osamu stands, plastering a smile across his face. 

“Tsumu, what can I do ya for?” 

“Cut the crap,” says Atsumu. “And drop the smile. We have the same face, Samu, I know that smile is as fake as they come.” 

“I don’t know what yer talking about.” 

“The sooner you tell him, the sooner he’ll drop it,” Sakusa says. Osamu hates that he's right. 

“Omi!”

“It’s the truth.” 

“Not helping.” 

Sakusa shrugs.

“I can’t believe I have to be your marriage counselor on _my wedding day,”_ says Atsumu but there's no heat behind it.

“I know.” Osamu hangs his head. “Don’t worry about me. Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll come back in and no one will be the wiser.” 

“Stop, yer not supposed to agree with me."

"What am I supposed to do, then?" He's suddenly exhausted, too torn up by the mess inside his head to argue.

"I don't know? Argue with me? That's what ya normally do. It's creepy to see ya so weird and down."

Osamu rubs his temples. "We can talk about it another time, like ya said, it's yer wedding day. It's not my business to interrupt that." 

"This is worse than I thought," Atsumu hums. "I guess ya didn't notice with that thick head of yers but I never said I wouldn’t help. It might be my wedding day but I apparently missed yours so I guess I owe you one. So just tell me, what the fuck is going on? Did you and Sunarin fight? Don’t bother lyin’ to me, Kita’s giving Suna the same talk.” 

Osamu leans back against the wall and prays for the strength to get through this conversation. “What do I gotta say for ya to leave me alone? I’m sure you and Sakusa want to get back out there with all yer friends and family. Or at least ya should.”

“Of course we do. I love dancing with my husband,” says Sakusa, failing to hide a giggle in his hand. 

“Don’t mind him,” says Atsumu. “He’s had his fair share of champagne. But he isn’t wrong, I too would like to get back to dancing with my husband. But not before I take care of this.” 

“So go, like I said, I’ll be fine. Ya shouldn’t have to worry about me on yer wedding day. What kinda brother am I? Get back out there and dance with yer tipsy husband.” 

“We’re family now,” Sakusa says, surprising both of them. “I want to dance with my husband but not if it means leaving you alone in a dark hallway.” 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Omi. Now, Samu, yer an absolute wreck. And stupid. Because like I said before, we have the same face. And the face yer makin’ right now is the same one I used to make when I was hung up on Omi here. But it’s crazy, then we talked about it and now we’re here. Back me up here, Omi.” 

Sakusa isn’t looking at either of them, mesmerized by the silver ring on his left hand. 

“Omi?”

Sakusa drops his hand back to his side. “Atsumu, we’re married,” he says gravely.

“I know, babe. I was there. And now we’re here, at our wedding reception, and 100% _real_ married. It’s pretty awesome, right Omi?”

 _Oh shit._ “Real married?” Osamu says, eyes going wide. 

“Ah-hah!” Atsumu says. “I had a hunch but yer face just told me everything I need to know. Just tell me what the fuck is going on, Samu. How else am I supposed to help ya?” 

“I don’t actually know the whole story.” 

Atsumu rubs his temples and takes a deep breath. “Omi, would ya mind keeping an eye on the door for us?” 

“You can count on me,” Sakusa says and he kisses Atsumu on the cheek. “Goodluck,” he says to Osamu, nodding once before heading out the way they came, presumably to guard the door from the other side.

“Alright, spill.” 

Osamu sighs. “After yer fourth runway attempt from yer bachelor party, Sunarin and I got really drunk. Neither of us remembers much more than that but we woke up with wedding photos on Suna’s phone and a marriage certificate in my wallet.” 

“Okay?” 

“Whatdya mean, okay?" 

“So, what’s the problem?” 

“Did ya not hear me? Suna and I got drunk and got married. We weren’t even dating!” 

“Getting a marriage annulled, especially one that’s not even a week old, is easy. What’s the problem?” 

Osamu growls and runs his hands through his hair. “Tsumu,” he says. 

Atsumu hums. “Ya gotta say it, Osamu. I can’t say it for ya.” 

“What if I don’t want to get it annulled? Is that bad?" 

“Well, have ya told Sunarin that?” 

“How the hell would I tell him that? _‘Hey Suna, remember the other night when we got drunk and got married? No? Me either. Well anyway, I don’t know how yer feeling about it but I was thinkin’ we ought to give this a shot, as backward as it might be._ ” 

Atsumu shrugs. “That sounded pretty good to me. Honest. To the point.” 

“I can’t just _say_ that! Are ya insane?” 

“Alright Osamu, answer some questions for me.” 

"What is this, an interrogation?" 

“Do you like Sunarin?” 

“That’s a dumb question.” 

“Humor me then.” 

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend.” 

“And does he make ya happy?” 

“Did ya hear what I just said?” 

Atsumu says nothing. 

“Yes, Sunarin makes me happy.”

“And do ya want to make him happy?”

Osamu nods. 

“I haven’t been married very long, and in a strange turn of events somehow _you’ve_ been married longer than me, but that sounds like the basis for a pretty decent marriage to me. Just two people who’ve known each other for a long time, committed to makin’ each other happy.” 

“Stop soundin’ so wise, yer freaking me out. Besides, it can't really be that simple."

“Soon as you talk to Suna then I won’t need to be wise anymore.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Sometimes ya gotta take a leap of faith, Samu, and just trust that the other person will be there to catch ya.” 

“Ya really think I should? Like here? At yer wedding?” 

There’s a knock on the door. Atsumu smiles and it’s then that Osamu realizes that he’s been played for the second time in fifteen minutes. 

“Now or never. It’s gonna be fine. Take the leap, Samu.” Atsumu cuffs him around the back of the head and pulls him in for a rough hug. “I’ll see ya on the other side.” 

Suna walks through the door like a man on his way to his execution but his expression softens when he catches sight of Osamu. Just the sight of Suna is enough to relieve some of the ache in his chest and ease the loud noise clouding up his head. 

“Suna,” says Atsumu. “Just remember, not only do I know where ya live, I have just as much blackmail on you that ya have on the rest of us and I won’t be afraid to use it if I have to for revenge purposes.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

“Right,” Atsumu claps Suna on the shoulder. “Good luck then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned are 
> 
> I've Been Waiting for You by Abba  
> Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol
> 
> Thank you ghosty for going down a rabbit hole looking at list after list of wedding songs just for me not to pick a single one either of us found on those lists.
> 
> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	4. downloading

The door slams behind Atsumu and then they’re alone in the dark hallway. The muffled hum of a pop song filters through the walls making the entire thing feel like the apex of some b-grade made-for-TV romcom. Suna meaders toward him, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched. On anyone else it’d look like Suna is trying to make himself smaller, as if there is any way to make 187 centimeters appear small, but Osamu knows it’s not nerves or anxiety, it’s laziness pure and simple. It’s an image so utterly _Suna_ that it sends a wave of affection cascading through his chest. 

Osamu moves without thinking, pushing himself off the wall and meeting Suna halfway. He wants to reach out, to touch him in some way, in any way. It’s how he always feels when Suna is around. Osamu reaches out until his fingers clasp his forearm. 

Osamu isn’t a touchy person. He doesn’t initiate hugs or throw an arm around someone’s shoulder for the heck of it, it just feels sort of _off._ Out of character maybe. But with Suna, it’s entirely the opposite. Suna enters a room and Osamu can’t quite think until a point of contact is established. 

“Glad to see ya survived yer talk with Kita.”

“I’m not sure I did. Pretty sure part of me died under his disappointed gaze,” says Suna.

Osamu shudders. “Here I was thinkin' Atsumu and Sakusa were bad enough. How the hell did Kita even know?”

Suna shrugs. “Said he had a hunch we did something dumber than usual. Then Atsumu recruited him and now we’re here.” 

“Now we’re here.” In the most cliche, worn-out romcom trope way, everything is suddenly so obvious. Painfully so. Osamu takes a leap.

“Hey, so did you know we’re in love?” He doesn't hesitate or fret about saying it out loud because he knows it's true. Even if he only realized it within the last hour. 

For Osamu and Suna, the line between friendship and something more has been blurry for so long, it’s no wonder it took a handle of tequila and a kick in the ass to realize they crossed the line a long time ago. 

Loving Suna Rintarou happened naturally, the way the seasons change; summer bleeds into fall, fall bleeds into winter and so on. No one notices from day to day how the leaves are slowly shifting from green to yellow to brown or how slowly but steadily the ice melts at the end of a cold winter, revealing the first brave buds of spring. It just happens. It’s inevitable. The same way it was inevitable that Miya Osamu and Suna Rintarou were drawn together, little by little, day by day. 

Suna freezes. It’s less than a second, probably imperceptible to anyone else, and then he’s nodding along. “Huh,” says Suna. “That does sound right now that you mention it.”

“Even Tsumu knew.” 

Suna groans. “Atsumu knew? And we didn’t? God, Osamu, we’re never going to hear the end of this. How could we have been so stupid? He’s going to hold this over us until the day we keel over.” 

“There’s only one thing left to do; we have to kill Atsumu,” Osamu deadpans. 

“Hmm,” Suna hums. We could do that. Or we could postpone Atsumu’s untimely death. I sort of want to hear more about how we’re in love.” 

Osamu smiles. He stares unabashedly at the quirk of Suna’s mouth; at the line of his shoulders and how he’s still slouching just enough to put the two of them at the same height. He stares at his hair and how the ends are starting to curl up slightly from spending hours crammed onto the hot, humid dance floor. He loves this man. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer," says Suna.

“Ya keep saying that.” 

“Yeah, cause you keep staring at me like some kind of weirdo.”

“It makes me a weirdo for starin’ at my beautiful husband?” 

“Ew, don’t say stuff like that.” Suna pushes him away but not before Osamu catches sight of the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Like what?” Osamu leers and pulls him right back in. “I’m only tellin’ the truth, Sunarin.”

“Don’t be gross.” 

“Listen here, yer face is the prettiest here and that’s including Akaashi Keiji. Ya can quote me on that one.”

Suna rolls his eyes. 

“I’m serious.” He leans back and gives Suna a once over. “Yer eyes? Enchanting. And that smirk ya wear when ya think yer hot shit? Captivating. Don’t get me started on what yer doing to me right now, in yer rumpled shirt with the top buttons undone. It’s indecent.” 

Suna shifts, raising himself up to his full height, and taking care to use every last millimeter to hover over him. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Osamu.”

He steps back as Suna crowds forward until Osamu’s back hits the wall. Heat flares in his stomach. “Oh?” says Osamu, shit-eating grin and all. 

Suna’s gazes drops, scrutinizing Osamu from top to bottom and back again. Osamu shifts from foot to foot, not used to being the sole focus of someone’s attention for such a long period of time. Suna takes his time, leisurely looking him over like they have all the time in the world. Like they aren’t in a semi-lit hallway outside of his brother’s wedding with a Britney Spears song filtering through the walls. 

“Suna?” 

“You’re my husband now, right?” 

Osamu nods.

“So don’t you think you should call me Rintarou?” 

“Uh,” Osamu stammers with all the grace of newborn deer. At once he’s glad to have the wall behind him, steady in the face of Suna’s unrelenting gaze. Suna fists his hands in the lapel of Osamu’s suit jacket and tugs until there is nothing more than a few meager centimeters between them. Suna’s gaze drops to his lips but he doesn’t move any closer. 

“Are ya gonna kiss me or what?”

Suna hums. “I don’t know. Are you going to call me Rintarou or...?” 

“I married a smartass,” says Osamu.

“Takes one to know one.” The shit-eating grin is back and Osamu wants nothing more than to kiss it off his stupid face. “Say it,” says Suna.

“Rintarou, you are the biggest smartass I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and if ya don’t kiss me right no-” Suna tugs and Osamu lets the momentum pull him into this juncture that’s been building for years. 

Their first kiss is measured, steady, and gentle. It’s so different than everything they normally are. It’s tender and relaxed in the face of all the usual shit they give each other, the teasing, the jokes and jabs. And yet, the gentle push and pull of their lips is simultaneously everything they are. It’s ‘be safe’ texts and reminders to get enough sleep; it’s waking up to weird memes and texts that Suna finds when he can’t sleep; it’s shoving aspirin into the other’s face after a night out before collapsing back into bed; it’s knowing that no matter what, Suna has his back and he has his. It’s just Osamu and Suna. Suna and Osamu. The way it’s always been and the way Osamu always wants it to be.

They break apart, breathing in tandem, and reveling in this moment that should be earth-shattering or life-changing or something else equally dramatic. It’s none of those things. They reached this moment through the most unorthodox of ways but, in the wake of their first kiss, it’s glaringly obvious that they would end up here eventually. It only takes one kiss for Osamu to know he was made for kissing Suna Rintarou. 

Osamu leans back in, his lips part and Suna wastes no time pressing closer, removing his hands from the lapels of Osamu’s jacket at last. His hands drop to the sides of Osamu's hips, drawing them together until they’re thigh to thigh, hip to hip, chest to chest. One of Osamu’s hands finds its way into Suna’s hair, the other wraps around his chest in a feeble attempt to clutch Suna closer still as if it were possible to begin with. 

Suna gasps and something inside Osamu snaps, demanding more, more, more. More Suna. Osamu, never really one for sitting still, starts moving and doesn’t stop. His hands are in Suna’s hair, still a little sweaty from all the dancing. They’re cupping Suna’s jaw, running up and down his back, clutching his waist, his hips, his shoulders. What their first kiss lacked in intensity, their second kiss makes up for tenfold. 

Osamu can’t wrap his head around how they ever got along without this form of connection, without the intimacy of soft lips against lips and warm breath and racing hearts. He doesn’t know how long they kiss like that, with the weight of Suna holding him against the wall and Osamu’s hands mapping every centimeter of Suna that he can reach, but eventually they pull apart. They only have so long before Atsumu undoubtedly comes charging back into the hallway, demanding to know if they worked things out. But Osamu doesn’t mind, he and Suna have an entire lifetime of kisses ahead of them to look forward to. 

The party is still in full swing when they emerge from the hallway. Atsumu looks them up and down and for once in his life has the decency not to comment on their frankly disheveled appearances. 

Kita appears, looking between Osamu and Suna and then back again. "I take it congratulations are in order?" Kita doesn't give them time to answer. He hums. "Well then, congratulations. I'm proud of you." And then he’s gone as quick as he arrived. 

Much of the night continues this way, with Suna and Osamu milling around, chatting with friends and family or taking a break at the bar just to be interrupted by someone praising the gods above that Osamu and Suna got their heads out of their asses at last. 

“I gotta say,” says Aran. “It’s a real relief ya guys figured yer shit out. We were thinkin’ we’d have to stage an intervention before year-end otherwise. Half a decade of mutual pining is enough, right?” 

“Does everybody just know now?” Osamu growls but Aran just laughs and walks off. 

“Does it even count as pining if ya didn’t know ya were pining in the first place?” says Osamu. 

Suna hides his head in his hands. “This is so embarrassing. Did everyone else know we were basically married before we even knew we liked each other?” 

Osamu thinks back on the past few years of their friendship. It’s no wonder everyone and their mother was under the impression he and Suna were more than just good friends. 

“I guess I can’t blame them. We sure did act pretty married. To be honest, it probably says a lot that we didn’t immediately freak out when I found the marriage certificate in my wallet.”

“Yeah, and at least only Atsumu, Sakusa, and Kita know that we got drunk married less than 48 hours ago.” 

“I suppose yer right.”

The best man speeches are a welcome refuge from the onslaught of different variations on _finally!_ and _oh, I thought you’ve been together for years._ Some of whom Osamu is quite sure neither he nor Suna has ever met before in their lives. 

Komori takes the stand first. 

“Kiyoomi is nothing if not cautious. It’s something I’ve ragged on him for since we were kids. However, though I might poke fun or make a joke here or there, do not get me wrong, Kiyoomi’s caution is one of his best qualities. And it is undoubtedly the trait I admire most about him. Kiyoomi doesn’t do anything without thinking about beforehand. Call it calculated or mindful or whatever you will but I prefer thoughtful or considerate. Kiyoomi’s caution is what makes him a great friend, teammate, and cousin. It’s how I know he will make an amazing husband.

“Everything Kiyoomi does is carefully considered before being acted upon; which is why I didn’t so much as second guess him when he called me up about his best man for his wedding, not even a year after he and Atsumu started dating. His sometimes cold and monotone exterior, or as I liked to call it, Kiyoomi’s Resting Bitch Face, is all just a facade to hide his big caring heart. 

“Kiyoomi, I am so glad you found someone who saw right through your bullshit in favor of your big ole heart. But more importantly, I’m happy you found someone who can match your spectacular flair for dramatics because you deserve someone who will love you with as much fervor and care as I know you will love them.” Komori tucks his notecards into his pocket and pulls Sakusa into a hug. "Congratulations." They pull apart and Komori turns to Osamu and shoots finger guns his way. “Alright, Osamu, your turn. _”_

“I had an amazing speech planned,” says Osamu. “And now I have to ruin it by getting sappy. Really, my original speech was top-notch, absolutely packed with Atsumu roasts. Don’t worry, I’m still gonna do that but first I need to take an unscheduled detour. 

“Some of ya might not buy it, but contrary to popular belief, Tsumu and I are really good friends. Just sometimes we express it by tacklin’ or deckin’ each other. I know when he needs a gentle nudge in the right direction or a swift kick in the ass and I’m not afraid to do either. Luckily for me, or anyone who has the luck of calling Atsumu a friend, he doesn’t hesitate either. 

“The point I’m trying to make here is that Tsumu is a persistent, obnoxious bastard but only when it comes to people he cares about. If yer lucky enough to have Tsumu buzzing around ya like a bee then ya must be someone very important to him indeed; and ya should count yerself lucky because you’ve found yerself a friend who is loyal to a fault and always ready to give ya what ya need whether it’s a mean punch, a snarky jab, or a gentle nudge in the right direction. 

“Sakusa, all I can say is, that for every time he leaves ya wantin’ to strangle him, just a little bit, there will be ten others that leave ya astounded at how much heart lies behind that obnoxious exterior. I haven’t yet had the luck of gettin’ to know Sakusa real well, but it doesn’t take much to see how perfect you two are for each other. I’m glad ya found each other and I hope to get to know ya well. Welcome to this crazy stupid family. 

“Alright, let’s move onto more important business, the roasting of Miya Atsumu.”

  
  


Every time Osamu thinks he has a moment to sit back and relax, to enjoy the wedding he painstakingly helped Atsumu plan over the last six months, something else rears its ugly head; this time in the form of an antiquated wedding tradition. 

“Alright folks, it’s time for everyone’s favorite part of the evening, the bouquet toss, or in this case, the volleyball toss. Fear not, the volleyball is plush and cannot cause serious injury to anyone or anything. However, the grooms understand completely that not everyone may be comfortable with a volleyball, even one that is plush, being thrown at them at breakneck speeds.” 

Atsumu grabs the microphone from the DJ. “That caveat doesn’t apply if ya play for a professional team or are capable of bench pressing another human being. All you better get yer asses out here.” 

Osamu does not envy Suna; if it weren’t for his height he’d undoubtedly be lost in the sea of professional volleyball players. The dance floor is swamped not only with the entirety of the Japanese National Team but also Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Washio Tatsuki, not to mention all of the MSBY Black Jackals. Osamu hasn’t decided if this was a brilliant idea or the worst thing Atsumu’s ever come up with. 

Sakusa stands several feet behind Atsumu, plush volleyball in hand. Atsumu looks through the assembled crowd and frowns. His gaze moves onto the spectators, a delighted, downright evil grin mars his face when he spots Osamu. 

_Oh no._

Atsumu is by his side in a second with his arm in a vice grip, tugging him toward the assembled mass. 

“Come on brother dear, whatcha doin’ out here?” 

“Are ya crazy? I can’t hold my own among the entire Japan National Team. Yer crazy!” 

“It’s a plush volleyball, don’t be so dramatic. And don’t even think about playing the married card, that doesn’t count since ya didn’t invite me.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Yes,” says Atsumu. Osamu wants to punch him. If it weren’t for the laws of this land, or wedding, he’d do it and then sprint away as fast as his body would allow. Instead, he’s shoved into the mass of giant, ripped professional athletes, and told to fend for himself. 

Sakusa throws the ball up and rushes forward. Atsumu tosses the ball and Sakusa jumps- it connects. Ushijima catches it and Osamu lets out a sigh of relief. He’d half thought Atsumu and Sakusa were going to aim directly for his head. 

“I caught it,” Ushijima deadpans. “What do I do now?” 

“Ushiwaka! Does that mean there are wedding bells in the future?” Bokuto yells. 

“Wedding bells?” 

“You caught the volleyball!” says Hinata and because he’s a ball of energy even six hours into a wedding reception, naturally he’s jumping up and down as he says it. 

“Yes, that’s my job. It is also your job.” 

“Ushiwaka-chan, catching the volleyball means you’re going to get married next,” Oikawa says. “What are you? A robot?” 

“Oh, I was not informed of this. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go call Satori. He will want to be informed of this new development.” 

“Okaayyy,” Atsumu says once Ushijima has pushed his way through to the crowd, cell phone in hand. “Round two!” 

Osamu’s snaps to attention. _Round two?_

Sakusa sets up, Atsumu sets, and... the ball whooshes past his face, dangerously close to taking his head off, plush or not. 

Iwaizumi catches it. 

“Iwa-chan! We’re gonna get married!” 

“Yeah, no shit, we’re already engaged.” 

“Shhh, don’t ruin the moment.” 

The crowd starts to disperse but not before Atsumu pulls out another plush volleyball from god knows where and hands it off to Sakusa. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Osamu mutters. 

“Don’t go anywhere folks, show’s not over yet,” says Atsumu. 

Osamu groans and has just enough time to get his hands up before the ball comes thundering by and straight into the waiting arms of Bokuto. It goes on like this, Atsumu holding all the professional or former volleyball players in the room hostage while he and Sakusa hurtle plush volleyballs at them. After Ushijima, Bokuto, and Iwaizumi- and by proxy Oikawa- are out, Kageyama, Inunaki, and Aran follow. To Osamu’s delight, Suna seems to have caught onto Atsumu and Sakusa’s plan around the same time he did, and both of them spend the next half hour expertly dodging every plush volleyball until the crowd has dwindled to just four: Osamu, Suna, Komori, and Yaku. 

He’s had enough, Osamu sprints across the floor, scooping up as many plush volleyballs as he can and lobbing them back at Atsumu with as much force as he can muster. 

“I know what yer trying to do you bastard of a brother and it’s not going to work!” 

Atsumu, the bastard, just laughs and dodges. 

“Yer just giving me more ammunition, Samu. It’s not over til it’s over.” 

Osamu looks to Sakusa, hoping in vain that Atsumu’s better half will put an end to Atsumu’s tactics that have now dragged on for over forty minutes. Sakusa just shrugs and hands Atsumu another plush volleyball. They’re not even bothering with set-spike set up anymore. Atsumu is just serving plush volleyball after plush volleyball like it's just another normal thing to do at a wedding. 

“Tsumu!” Osamu screeches, picking another volleyball up from the floor. “This is dumb and ya know it! Me and Suna are alrea-” A hand slaps over his mouth and before he fully processes what’s happening, Suna has him thrown over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

"Not everyone knows we're married, dumbass. We can't just announce that out of nowhere at your brother's wedding," Suna says.

Ugh, he's right. 

“Toss me a damn ball," Suna says. Atsumu, shit-eating grin and all, obliges. Suna catches it, hands it to Osamu where he’s tossed over his shoulder like a bag of rice, and then strides off the dance floor. The rest of the reception goes wild, Osamu hopes in vain that it’s to celebrate the end of Atumu’s hair-brained scheme and not because it nearly looked like Suna just proposed to him with a plush volleyball. Joke’s on them, they’re already married. 

“Ya think yer such hot shit,” Osamu grumbles. “We’re already married, ya asshole.”

Suna laughs. “And you like it.” 

“Shut up.” 

They’re in the home stretch. If Osamu can just make it through the next half an hour then he can let out the biggest sigh of relief of his lifetime. Atsumu’s wedding will be over and without a single major disaster to speak of. The exhaustion hasn’t set in quite yet, he’s still running on two glasses of champagne and the tail end of an adrenaline high that started two days ago after the first of Atsumu’s escape attempts. He and Suna have once again found themselves sitting on the periphery watching the remaining wedding guests. Or pretending to. Suna has his phone in hand, aimlessly scrolling through various social media feeds. Osamu has his head on Suna’s shoulder, too lazy to lift it even when the DJ starts speaking again. 

“Well folks, it’s that time, the evening is winding down. At the grooms’ request, I’ll be playing a couple more slow songs to finish out the night. Grab a partner and get out there on the dance floor while you still can.” 

Atsumu appears at his shoulder wearing an expression like an ax-murderer who just found his next victim. Without time to process what’s happening, Atsumu has him up out of his chair and is shoving him none too gently toward the dance floor. Komori does the same to Suna, going so far as to pluck the phone right out of his hand. 

“I hate you,” Suna deadpans.

“Love you, too!” Komori sing-songs. “You kids have fun out there!” 

“You’re as bad as he is,” Osamu says.

“I’ve been waiting for Suna to stop pining since the day he signed with EJP. _And_ I won the team’s betting pool, this is a great day for me!” 

Suna flips him off but allows himself to be accosted onto the dance floor anyway. 

“Alright you two, have fun out there!” says Atsumu giving Osamu one final shove in Suna’s direction. 

He and Suna stumble, literally, onto the dance floor where the first few notes of the aforementioned slow song are beginning to play. They stand there dumbly for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them that ends with two shrugs and a mutual agreement that it will be less effort to just dance than fight Atsumu and Komori. 

“May I have this dance?” Suna deadpans. 

“No,” Osamu says as he wraps his hands around Suna’s waist anyway. 

_There you see her, sittin’ there across the way. She don’t got a lot to say but there’s something about her. And you don’t know why but you’re dying to try, you wanna kiss the girl._

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” says Osamu. 

_Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. It’s possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her. It don’t take a word, not a single word, go on and kiss the girl._

“Atsumu does realize that in this scenario he’s the singing shellfish, right?” says Suna.

Osamu snorts. “I did compare him to an annoying bee in my speech, maybe I should have gone with overbearing crustacean.”

_Looks like the boy’s too shy. Ain’t gonna kiss the girl. Sha-la-la-la-la-la ain’t that sad. It’s a shame, too bad. You’re gonna miss the girl. Go on and kiss the girl._

“If he really wants us to kiss that bad, let’s give him the show of a lifetime. Then he’ll never bother us again.”

“I like the way you think, Sunarin. This better be the best damn show of our lives.” 

He barely finishes his sentence before Suna is dipping him and they’re kissing within an inch of life. Suna has one strong arm pressed into his back, the other on his thigh. It’s obnoxious and clumsy and so utterly ridiculous Osamu can’t help but smile as they make out like teenagers right there in the middle of his brother’s wedding. 

“Let’s kick this up a notch,” Osamu says between kisses. “Literally.” He hikes a leg up between Suna’s arm and torso the way he’s seen couples do in every romcom Atsumu has ever made him watch. In response, Suna grips his thigh even tighter and Osamu’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. 

Distantly he’s aware of the hooting and hollering accosting them from all sides. Shouts of ‘get it!’ and ‘get a room!’ interspersed with the wolf whistles and wordless cheering. But it isn’t until that last few notes come to an end and Suna pulls him back up again that he notices that they’re the only two on the dance floor. 

“Guess we scared them all off,” Suna says smirking. Osamu loves him so much. 

“I suppose that means mission accomplished.” 

“Wow-ee folks, bet you didn’t expect dinner and a show,” says the DJ. “We’ve got one more song queued up for you tonight. I want to see all the beautiful couples here celebrating Atsumu and Sakusa’s marriage swaying on the dance floor alongside them. Don’t be shy!” 

_All those days watching from the windows. All those years outside looking in._

“May I have this dance?” Osamu says. “For real this time.” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Suna says. 

_All that time never really knowing just how blind I’d been._

This time they perform any elaborate scene or skit. They don’t joke or even talk so much as talk, they just sway in time to the music, carefully avoiding the rest of the couples filling the dance floor. 

_Standing here it’s all so clear I’m where I’m meant to be._

It’s nice in a way he didn’t expect, dancing with Suna. 

_And at last I see the light and it’s like the fog has lifted. And at least I see the light and it’s like the sky is new. And it’s warm and real and bright._

That’s what Suna is: warm underneath his palms, a solid and tangible presence keeping Osamu grounded in the chaotic world that is adulthood, and a steady light illuminating his world with quick wit and banter. 

_And the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything is different. Now that I see you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	5. File Located

Osamu wakes up far earlier than he has any right to be awake and to his frustration, nothing helps him fall back asleep. Instead, he lies there, arm thrown across Suna’s back and thinks, and thinks, and thinks until he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. 

He and Suna are married. Married. Capital ‘M’, trademarked, _Married_ (TM). He can’t figure out how to fit this new fact into their previous lives. They live hundreds of kilometers apart; even the Shinkansen takes a couple of hours between the two cities. How are they supposed to do this? How are they supposed to navigate a relationship that’s been building for as long as they’ve known each other but somehow brand new at the same time? 

“I can hear you thinking,” Suna says, his face partially smashed into the pillow. “It’s too early for thinking.” 

Osamu hums noncommittally and squeezes Suna a little bit tighter. 

“I think I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll bring ya back some breakfast.” He starts to roll away but Suna thwarts his attempt to get up; he sits up and tugs Osamu back into the bed. Suna shoves an extra pillow behind his back, wraps his arms around Osamu’s torso, and hauls him along with him until Osamu is settled between his legs, chest to back. Osamu doesn’t try to wriggle away, he lets himself be manhandled into their new position without complaint. 

“I’m the one who is supposed to overthink everything, you know,” says Suna.

Osamu shrugs. He isn’t the type to let much get to him. He can shrug off or shoulder through almost anything life throws at him with little complaint but he can’t seem to do the same with the anxiety that’s been steadily bubbling away in his stomach since he woke up. Does it count as anxiety if these are actual real problems that they’re going to have to deal with sooner or later? 

“Are you going to tell me what has you all worked up or do I have to guess?” Suna rakes a hand through Osamu’s hair and waits. Osamu leans into the touch, wishing that they could stay here, in their messy hotel room forever. But they can’t, later today they will check out of the hotel and tomorrow Suna will return to his apartment in Tokyo and Osamu will go back to work and life will continue as it was before the events of this weekend took place. 

Suna presses a kiss to his temple. Osamu breaks. 

“Suna?” 

“Hmm?” 

“How do we make this work?” He hates how his voice comes out shaky and uncertain as if Osamu could ever be uncertain of Suna. The arm wound around Osamu’s chest tightens. It’s grounding, a welcome tether in this conversation that Osamu doesn’t have the slightest inkling how to navigate. 

“Which part?” says Suna. 

Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands. “ _This._ All of this. On Thursday we were best friends; the next day we’re married. And then another day passes and we realize we’ve been in love the entire goddamn time and tomorrow we have to go back to the real world. The real world where we live in two different cities with two very different jobs that keep us both busy, really busy.” Suna holds him tighter, one hand still gently carding through his hair. “How-how do we do this?”

“One thing at a time,” Suna says like they’re talking about their plans for the day instead of having one of the most stressful conversations of their lives. “It’s a lot but nothing we can’t figure out one piece at a time.”

Osamu nods. He trusts Suna. And he trusts himself. They can do this. Probably. 

Suna takes a deep breath, the hand in his hair stills and Osamu knows what Suna is going to ask before he says anything. 

“Should we annul?” says Suna. 

It’s unfair how much a simple question can hurt. Osamu isn’t a possessive person but a tiny voice in the back of his head still wants to shout ‘my husband My Husband _my husband_ ’ until everyone knows that he is Suna’s and Suna is his and that he loves Suna beyond any doubt.

In all of this, the one thing he knows for sure is that he does love Suna, even if he only noticed how much he loves Suna yesterday. “No, I’m not giving’ ya up until ya say ya don’t want me anymore.”

Suna huffs a laugh. “Never.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“So we aren’t annulling.” 

It’s not really a question but Suna answers anyway. “No.” 

Osamu can breathe again. Suna cards his fingers through Osamu’s hair and he thinks that he was wrong earlier, this is the moment he wants to live in forever. 

“And for the record, I’m not giving you up either. Not for as long as you’ll have me,” Suna says, voice almost a whisper. 

“Ya really think we can do this? Long-distance?” 

“Hmm, it’ll be difficult but I don’t think there is anything we can’t do, not if we do it together.” 

Osamu flips over so they’re face to face. Suna blinks at him in surprise, his hair is still mussed from sleep, and his eyes are still a bit bloodshot from all the late nights over the past few days; and yet Osamu has never seen anyone more beautiful than Suna Rintarou. 

“I love ya,” Osamu says, his face serious. "Yer cheesy and I love ya, Suna Rintarou." 

“You’re embarrassing.” Suna hides his face in his hands. “But I love you, too,” he mumbles between his fingers. It’s not a solution. But _it is_ a promise to work together on each and every obstacle that stands in their way. 

“What was that? Couldn’t hear ya there with yer hands over yer face.” Osamu sits up onto his knees and tries to wrestle Suna’s hands off his face. 

“You heard me,” Suna says. 

A deep blush peeks out between Suna’s fingers and Osamu needs to see it, needs to see what Suna looks like with his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. He kisses Suna square on the mouth and smirks when Suna’s hands fall all away from his face in surprise. The flush stretches across Suna’s face and up to the tips of his ears. It creeps down his neck, dips down to his collarbones, to his chest, and beyond. Osamu sits back on his heels and just looks for the sake of it. Because that's something he can do now. He drinks in the sight of Suna with his bed head and pink flush and bright eyes. 

Suna quirks an eyebrow; it’s a silent challenge. _Are you just going to look?_ Osamu isn’t one to back down from a challenge. Still kneeling, he leans down, holding himself up with one hand on either side of Suna, until he’s close enough to whisper in his ear. “If it’s a kiss yer lookin’ for, Rintarou, then yer gonna have to try harder than that.” 

Suna huffs. “Who says I want to kiss you?” 

“Yer a lousy liar.” 

Suna pouts and pushes his hair out of his face. “On second thought, it’s getting pretty late, I should probably start getting ready. What was that about getting me breakfast?” Suna tries to wiggle out of the covers but it’s more or less futile with Osamu’s limbs still caging him in. 

“All ya gotta do is ask nicely and I’d be more than happy to kiss ya.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt. Who wouldn’t want to kiss me?” 

“Cocky, are we?” 

“Always,” Suna says and in the same instant, he flips them so it’s Osamu laying on the bed with Suna hovering over him. 

Osamu sometimes forgets how strong Suna is. He forgets that Suna is not the skinny, tall, lazy kid he met when they were 1st years. Right now he can’t forget; not with toned arms caging in his head and a muscular thigh framing either side of his body.

“How the tables have tabled,” Osamu deadpans.

Suna stares at Osamu. Osamu stares at Suna. They last all of four seconds before they burst into a fit of laughter, laughing so hard that Suna collapses on top of him. Osamu shuts his eyes and appreciates the heavy weight of Suna laying on top of him. 

“Osamu.”

Osamu hums.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Osamu cracks open an eye. “I knew ya only married me for my looks.”

Suna pushes himself up to lean on his elbows. He grins and Osamu is filled with a warm rush of affection. “Hmm, maybe,” says Suna. “I hear there are some pretty sweet tax benefits to this whole husband thing. I’m definitely in it for that too.”

Osamu gasps and clutches imaginary pearls. “Are ya sayin’ that we’re just tax benefits husbands? I’m appalled.” 

“Oh we’re _definitely_ husbands with benefits but the benefits don’t start or end with taxes.” 

“I don’t think I know about these other benefits, care to demonstrate?” says Osamu. 

Suna pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t see why not.” 

He holds Osamu’s face in both hands like he’s something precious and not the obnoxious asshole he pretends to be. Suna leans in, pausing when their faces are mere centimeters apart; his gaze is unrelenting, his undivided attention on Osamu. Heat pools in Osamu’s gut. What began as a gentle fluttering in his stomach now threatens to burst forth from his chest. He needs Suna closer, closer, clos-

The spell breaks.

“Oi! Samu! Samu! Samu! Suna! Suna! Suna!” 

Osamu groans. 

“I know yer in there and if ya think I won’t stand here and pound on yer door until you open up then yer even stupider than I thought ya were,” says Atsumu.

Suna collapses on top of him again, burying his face in the juncture between Osamu’s chest and neck. “Why is he like this?” 

“Let me in, let me innnn!” The door rattles. 

“I think that’s for you,” Osamu says. 

“He’s _your_ brother.” Suna pokes him on the cheek.

“He’s _yer_ brother now too, ya know.” 

Suna rolls his eyes and releases Osamu. “Go deal with him so we can go back to sleep.” 

“Is that what we were doin’, sleeping?” Osamu says, dragging himself out of the bed to the door. 

Suna rolls to face the side of the room opposite the door and tugs the blanket over his shoulders and doesn't bother answering. 

“I swear, Atsumu, ya better have a good reason for bangin’ on our door this early in the morning,” Osamu says, opening the door just enough to poke his head into the hallway. 

“It's 11:45.” 

“I said what I said.” 

“Just let me in.” 

“No.” 

“Samuuu, it’s important!” 

“Go away, it’s been an exhausting three days. My only plans for today are to sleep for at least another four hours. Bye.” It’s not necessarily a lie. After he and Suna finish their conversation on _benefits_ then he plans on sleeping the rest of the afternoon. And preferably with Suna draped halfway across him. Or vice versa- he isn’t picky. 

Osamu attempts to shut the door but Atsumu wedges a foot in between the door and the wall. But Osamu isn’t a monster and regrettably shows mercy by not crushing Atsumu’s foot with the heavy hotel door. 

“Tsumu, I swear you really are the biggest pain in the ass.” Osamu throws an arm around Atsumu’s shoulders in a vain attempt to wrestle him back into the hallway but there’s no hiding from the fact that Osamu can lift heavy bags of rice all day long but Atsumu will always be stronger than him. 

“I’m yer older brother, that's my job.” 

“Just let them in,” Suna groans, still in bed. “You’re both giving me a headache. It’s like being in high school all over again.” 

Atsumu leverages Osamu’s momentary distraction to force his way into the room. It’s only then that he realizes he isn’t alone as Sakusa slinks in behind him, mask pulled down around his chin and with his hands jammed into his pockets. 

“Suna!” Osamu whines. “We can’t just let every stray animal into our room. Then they’ll never go away.” 

Suna shrugs. 

“At least get outta bed, ya can’t leave me to fend for myself!” Osamu says. 

Suna rises from the bed as if the weight of the blankets alone are more than he reasonably can be expected to handle.

“Ugh, Suna, why did ya marry him again?” Atsumu says.

“I could ask Sakusa the same question.” Suna comes to stand behind Osamu, hooking his chin over his shoulder and winding both arms around his waist. 

“Ew Suna, ya could at least put some clothes on if ya have guests.”

“What are you talking about, I have boxers on?” Suna glances down. “Correction, I have Osamu’s boxers on.” 

He knows just as well as Suna that those boxers are 100% Suna's.

“Get a room," Atsumu says, mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace. 

“We have one. You're the one who showed up without any warning.” But Suna unlatches from Osamu anyway to tug on the closest pair of sweatpants he can find.

“Oh, so it's ‘our room’ now,” Atsumu leers. 

“I hate ya so much sometimes. What are ya here for, Tsumu? Just spit it out,” Osamu says and punches his arm. 

“Jeez, okay. Sakusa and I were just droppin’ by to make sure ya were still alive. Got concerned when ya didn’t reply to all the cute photos I sent ya.” 

“Why would I want a bunch of photos of you and Sakusa? And I wasn’t ignoring ya, asshole. I haven’t seen my phone since the night Suna and I got married. Probably lost it while drunk.” 

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Just when I think ya can’t get even stupider,” Atsumu crosses the room to the closet, throwing open the doors and squatting to find the hotel safe. “I swear, Samu, there’s nothing but rice and Suna Rintarou in yer head.” He fiddles with the lock for a moment then looks Osamu dead in the eyes as he types in the pin. “Here we go, 01-26-96.” 

The safe beeps twice and unlocks. 

“Ya aren’t slick,” says Atsumu, lifting Osamu’s phone out of the dark abyss and grinning. “And would ya look at what we have here?” He presses the power button.

To Osamu’s surprise and horror, it boots up. “Say it with me folks, 01-26-96.” His home screen appears. 

“An interesting choice,” Suna says, smirking. 

Osamu groans. 

“Yer passcode has been Sunarin’s birthday since our third year. Did ya really think I wouldn’t notice? I’m embarrassed to be related to ya, to the both of ya.” 

Suna snickers, “Aww, babe, you had a crush on me. That’s so gross."

Atsumu turns on Suna. “Don’t go thinkin’ I don’t know yer passcode ain’t 10-05-95, Suna Rintarou. Yer both gross. I'm appalled ya thought ya could get away with that one unscathed." 

Suna wrinkles his nose. “When did you get so all-knowing?”

“Ya can just say it. I’m the smarter twin and everyone here knows it.”

“That’s funny,” says Suna. “Don’t forget I’ve known you just as long as I’ve known him.” Suna points between Osamu and Atsumu. “If there’s one thing I know about the two of you, it’s that if Osamu was dumb yesterday then it’s your turn to be just as stupid today. Now it’s just a waiting game.” 

Sakusa snorts. “You did put salt instead of sugar into your coffee this morning.” 

“Omi! We’re married now ya can’t just go around spillin’ all my secrets! Besides, puttin’ salt in my coffee is nowhere near as stupid as bein’ in love with someone for over half a decade without ever noticing!” 

“To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer,” Sakusa counts on his hand, holding up a finger for each. “There wasn’t anything about secrets in the contract we went over yesterday.” 

“Omi! Yer not supposed to call wedding vows a contract!”

“Yer funny Sakusa,” says Osamu. “Glad to have ya in the family.” 

“Anyway!” says Atsumu, clearly upset with losing the upper hand in the conversation. “Back to the task at hand! If drunk Osamu put his phone in the safe, then that means there has to be something good on here. Something sentimental, maybe. Or something, dare I say, _embarrassing.”_

“Ya got exactly 4 seconds to give me back my phone before I tackle ya.”

Atsumu has the audacity to hide behind Sakusa and regrettably Osamu respects the guy just enough not to mow him over in his rampage to destroy Atsumu.

“Ohhh, definitely something embarrassing," says Atsumu. 

“What part of ‘I was too drunk to remember my own goddamn wedding’ don’t ya understand? Ya know what, Tsumu, go for it. I’m an open book. I don’t have anything to hide. Yer shit at this blackmail thing anyway. Couldn't hold a candle to Sunarin." 

"Awww, babe," Suna says. "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." 

Atsumu gags while he scrolls through Osamu's phone. “Well shit,” Atsumu says a moment later. “Looks like ya really do have something embarrassing hiding on here.”

“Huh?” 

“Looks like I found yer wedding video.” 

“Ha, ha. Real funny, Tsumu.” 

Atsumu shows Sakusa the screen. “I’m serious! Omi, tell them!” 

Sakusa squints at the screen held aloft in Atsumu’s hand. Sakusa sighs the longest-suffering sigh Osamu’s ever heard, looking between the phone to Osamu and Suna and then back again. 

“It’s not conventional but it does look like a wedding video.” 

Osamu throws himself into an armchair and holds his head in his hands. He can’t decide if he’s elated, annoyed, nervous, or some combination of all three. 

“Hah! Told ya! And we’d know, we got married yesterday and we even remember the whole thing.” 

Sakusa shoots him an incredulous look. “Alright, things get a little hazy for the both of us after the fifth glass of champagne. Regardless, I can remember the whole night.” 

“No need to brag,” says Suna. “We can’t all make solid life decisions all the time.” He holds out an arm and makes a ‘gimmie’ motion with his hand. “Now give me the phone so I can see my wedding.” 

Atsumu obliges without contest, handing Suna the phone and hunkering down in a chair to watch their reactions. He tugs Sakusa down with him so he’s settled halfway on Atsumu’s thigh and half on the arm of the chair. Osamu fights back the urge to gag. Hotel armchairs were not made for two fully grown volleyball players. 

“Hey,” says Suna. “Are you going to watch it with me?” 

Osamu answers by encircling Suna’s waist and yanking him into his lap. He keeps both arms wrapped tight and rests his chin on Suna’s shoulder. “Ready when you are.” 

“Wait!” says Atsumu. “Do that thing where ya play it on the TV from yer phone. I wanna see this too.” Osamu is too lazy to argue with him. 

**The video, or rather the first clip, opens with Suna’s face half in the frame vlog style. He’s grinning and flipping through something on Osamu’s phone.**

**“Osamu’s in the bathroom and he left his phone unlocked,” Suna whispers, sounding surprisingly clear. “Naturally, I have to take this opportunity to find every last embarrassing thing on here while he’s gone. And record my reaction for all posterity. I don’t make the rules. Let’s see...hmm...I guess I’ll start with his photos. Photos...folders...anything good?” Video Suna trails off for a moment before sucking in a sudden breath. “Holy shit. Holy shit. _Holy. Shit.”_**

**_"_** What the fuck did ya find, Sunarin?" says Atsumu.

"Hell, if I know." 

**He closes whatever app he’s in and sets the phone down on the table. Then he too sits and holds his head in his hands. Suna is saying something but between the ambient noise of the bar and Suna’s quiet mumbling, it’s hard to make out what he’s saying.**

**“Oh fuck, I love that idiot. When the fuck did that happen?” This rings loud and clear through the bustle of the bar and the shitty microphone on Osamu’s phone. Suna looks at the camera again, eyes going wide. “I have the _best_ idea.” He looks away for a moment. “Shit, he’s coming back!” Suna shoves the phone, well, somewhere that partially obscuring the camera. **

**“Suna! I gotta ask ya something important!”**

**“No way, I have something important to ask you,” says Suna.**

**“Shit, that’s crazy. You go first.”**

**“No you.”**

**“No you.”**

**“No you.”**

Across the room Atsumu groans. “Good to know yer just as annoyin’ drunk as you are sober.” 

**“Wait!” says Suna.**

**“Are ya thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”**

**“On 3?”**

**“One,” says Osamu.**

**“Two,” says Suna.**

**“Will ya marry me?”**

**“Will you marry me?”**

**“Jinks!” they both yell.**

**“WAIT! Did ya just-” says video Osamu, grabbing Suna by the shoulders.**

**“Duh,” says Suna. “But more importantly, did you just-”**

**“Well?” says Osamu, cutting Suna off with a good shake. “Are ya gonna marry me or not?”**

**“Right now?” says Suna.**

**“Why not?”**

The clip ends with Suna grabbing the phone from wherever he’d hidden it and shoving it into Osamu’s pocket. 

“Neither of you has ever been normal a day in yer life,” says Atsumu. “That was disgusting. I can’t believe ya made me watch that.” 

“No one made you watch anything,” Suna says. 

“Are you crying?” says Sakusa. 

“No!” says Atsumu. 

“Sureee,” Osamu says, dragging out the sound. “There’s another one. Better vacate the premises if ya can’t handle it.” 

“I’m not cryin’! Hit play,” Atsumu says. 

**The next video picks up sometime later. Osamu recognizes the altar and the Elvis presiding over them from the photos they found on Suna’s phone. They’re just standing there, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. Even he can admit the way they’re looking at each other is so honest and intimate that it’s almost a little gross. Almost.**

“Ya sure didn’t mess around,” Atsumu says. “And people thought we moved fast.” 

“You went from hating each other to living together in four months,” says Suna.

“Excuse us for bein’ a little concerned about ya,” says Osamu. 

“Do ya not see the double standard here? You two got tequila drunk and were married two hours later. Ya weren’t even datin- wait, you weren’t dating, right? Because I swear with Omi as my witness that if you two were dating and didn’t tell me I’m gonna kill ya right here and now.” 

“You literally could tell we got married with one glance and you think we would be able to hide a relationship from you?” says Suna.

“Oh right, carry on.” 

**Osamu isn’t sure why Elvis is the one officiating or where they even found an Elvis impersonator in Osaka but he stopped asking questions about this whole affair the moment he found the folded up marriage certificate in his wallet.**

**“Do you have your own vows prepared?” Elvis says.**

**Suna goes first. “Osamu, I might have only realized how much I love you, like, 37 minutes ago but now that I see it, it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Of course, I love you? How could I not? Hell, I even love you even when you haven’t eaten in over twelve minutes and are getting that crease between your eyebrows which means you’re one minute away from being unbearably hangry. And I'll love you for as long as you let me. Or until the sun explodes, burning us all up, whichever comes first.”**

**The Osamu on the screen wipes away a tear. “Wow, Sunarin, that’s all I could have ever dreamed to hear. I guess that means it’s my turn. Suna, I think I might have loved ya for as long as I’ve known ya. I’m not sure when I started loving ya but I do know there’s no way I can stop now. To prove it, I thought up some promises to make ya: I promise to always nag ya about getting enough sleep and to trick ya into eating yer vegetables, and to make ya breakfast every time morning we wake up next to each other. Oh, and I promise to always cheer for ya at EJP vs. MSBY games.”**

**Suna sniffles.**

**“Okayyy,” Elvis says. “Do you, Miya Osamu, take Suna Rintarou to be your lawfully wedded husband?”**

**“I do.”**

**“Do you, Suna Rintarou, take Miya Osamu to be your lawfully wedded husband?”**

**“I do.”**

**“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom.”**

**They lean in, still holding hands.**

**“Wait,” says Osamu. “I can’t kiss ya, Sunarin. Not right now."**

Osamu, Suna, Atsumu, and Sakusa all gasp. 

**The Suna on the screen tilts his head to the side and stares at Osamu like he’s trying to work something out. Suna looks surprisingly relaxed and unbothered by the whole debacle.**

**“Too much tequila,” says Suna.**

**Osamu nods. “ ‘s not right to kiss ya when yer drunk. Consent is important.”**

**"Okay," says Suna, same sappy, head-over-heels-in-love expression and all.**

**Osamu leans over to whisper something in Elvis’ ear.**

**Elvis shrugs and says, “don’t see why not. I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now high-five the groom.”**

The video ends after a loud high five on the count of 3.

There are two seconds of blissful silence and then Atsumu is laughing so violently he almost pushes Sakusa off the chair. In Osamu’s lap, Suna starts to laugh. Sakusa follows. And finally, Osamu can’t fight it anymore and he starts to laugh too.

“Such a gentleman,” Atsumu says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I bagged myself a real country boy,” Suna says between giggles. “That kind of honesty would make Kita proud.” 

“Jose Cuervo can get me to accept yer proposal and go through with a wedding the same night but Mister Cuervo can’t get me to give up my guiding morals.” 

“You’ve never had a guiding moral in yer life,” says Atsumu. 

“Hey, now I do,” Osamu holds Suna tighter. “Nothing but the best for my husband.” 

“So yer stayin’ married then?” Atsumu says.

Suna and Osamu shrug in tandem which is about as strong a resounding 'yes' for the two of them.

“Better?” says Sakusa. “Is that enough proof for you?" 

Atsumu lets out a long breath and huffs a laugh. “Talk about a relief,” says Atsumu. 

“Aww, were ya worried about us?” 

“Wha-worry-me? Worried about you two dummies?” says Atsumu. “The audacity... I just wanted to know if I was gonna have to deal with a morose brother while Omi and I are away on our honeymoon. Obviously.”

“You were worried,” Sakusa says. 

“Omi! What did we say about keeping secrets!” 

“You were. Why would I lie?” 

“Alright, fine. I am relieved to hear yer stayin’ together. You two weirdos deserve each other. I’m leavin’, come on Omi.” Atsumu turns back at the door. “Let me know when yer ready to have yer actual wedding. I’m gonna need plenty of time to pick a color scheme and get things in order for ya.”

“Why would we get married again?” says Suna.

“Lotsa reasons, but most importantly, so I can get back at Samu for that speech.” 

“Who says yer gonna be my best m-” 

Suna twists in his lap to slap a hand over Osamu’s mouth before he can finish the sentence. 

“Sakusa, it’s in both of our best interests that you get Atsumu out of here as fast as possible,” says Suna. "Osamu, every single one of us knows you're playing a dangerous game right now." 

“No! I wanna hear what he has to say!” says Atsumu. “Meet me in the alley Samu. You ain’t funny.” 

Osamu squirms, trying and failing to wiggle his way out of Suna’s grip. 

“Yer brother and Sakusa are literally halfway out of our door and _I am sitting on top of you_ and you really want to start a fight with Atsumu? Now?” 

Osamu stops wiggling. 

“That’s what I thought. It’s been lovely catching up with you Sakusa. Have a nice honeymoon,” Suna says with a little farewell wave. "And Atsumu too, I guess." 

Sakusa mutters a quick thanks, grabs Atsumu, and drags him away. 

“Alright,” says Suna once the door is shut. “Where were we?” 

Osamu grins. “Something about tax benefits, I think?” 

“Oh, of course, _tax_ benefits, right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up- this is the final chapter of the story. The next chapter is missing pieces that didn't make it in when I originally published. Currently contains Ushijima & Tendou- Miya Atsumu roast speech to follow soon. 
> 
> [Art of SunaOsa high five by Gnappapon!!](https://twitter.com/gnappapon/status/1339227795940110336)
> 
> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	6. new file found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a few little pieces of this fic that never made it in to the story. I'm going to put them all in this extra chapter as I write/find them.

i. Ushijima & Tendou

[Sakusa throws the ball up and rushes forward. Atsumu tosses the ball and Sakusa jumps—it connects. Ushijima catches it and Osamu lets out a sigh of relief. He’d half thought Atsumu and Sakusa were going to aim directly for his head. 

“I caught it,” Ushijima deadpans. “What do I do now?” 

“Ushiwaka! Does that mean there are wedding bells in the future?” Bokuto yells. 

“Wedding bells?” 

“You caught the volleyball!” says Hinata and because he’s a ball of energy even six hours into a wedding reception, naturally he’s jumping up and down as he says it. 

“Yes, that’s my job. It is also your job.” 

“Ushiwaka-chan, catching the volleyball means you’re going to get married next,” Oikawa says. “What are you? A robot?” 

“Oh, I was not informed of this. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go call Satori. He will want to be informed of this new development.” 

“Okaayyy,” Atsumu says once Ushijima has pushed his way through to the crowd, cell phone in hand. “Round two!”]

*

“Satori.”

Tendou smiles, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he rummages through the closet. He could have sworn he saw the cold medicine in this closet the last time he was in town but no luck. 

He sniffles. “How’s the wedding going?” 

“It is very lively.” 

Tendou hums. “That’s not surprising. It’s Miya Atsumu, known worldwide for his theatrics.” He pauses. “And Sakusa too, now that I think about it.” 

Tendou gives up on the closet, pads back to the bedroom, and slumps onto the bed. Leave it to air travel to give him a cold on his visit home. 

“Miya,” Ushjima corrects. “He’s a Miya now.”

“Ah, you’re right. Miya Kiyoomi, then.” 

It’s silent for a moment. A familiar silence. And that’s okay, Tendou doesn’t know why Ushijima called but it’s clear he needs a moment to gather his thoughts. Tendou has plenty of moments, he doesn’t mind sparing a few while Ushijima thinks. 

“Satori,” Ushijima says again. “There are wedding bells.” 

“Well, you are at a wedding. That sounds about right.” 

Tendou has no idea what wedding bells have to do with anything but he isn’t going to complain. He’s been at home alone all day, Ushijima’s voice is a welcome lullaby. 

“No, not here. Bokuto said there are wedding bells in the future.” 

Tendou slaps the bed with this freehand. It’s about fucking time. “You’re kidding! Did Bokuto propose? Or did Akaashi?” He frowns. This means he definitely didn’t win the betting pool that’s been circulating among the players, friends, and family of Japan’s volleyball leagues. He makes a mental note to check the spreadsheet later and to send Akaashi and Bokuto some chocolate.

“No,” Ushijima pauses. “Or, I don’t know. There might be wedding bells in their future too.”

“Okay-”

“Other wedding bells.” 

“Whose wedding bells?” 

“I caught the volleyball,” he offers as an explanation. It does not explain anything at all. 

“The what?” 

“The volleyball,” Ushijima says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Are you guys playing volleyball at the reception? Hey, that’s a pretty good idea.” Tendou smiles, that would be fun to watch at a wedding full of nationally ranked volleyball players. 

“No.”

“Then how did you catch a volleyball?”

“The bouquet toss.” 

“They tossed...a volleyball? I guess that’s kind of cute.” 

“Very cute. But _I_ caught the volleyball so that means there are wedding bells in my future. I think. I don’t know how these things work.”

Tendou looks down, the gold ring on his left-hand catches the light. “I think you’re better at wedding bells than you think.” 

“Oikawa said I have to get married now. Since I caught the volleyball.” 

Tendou hums. Oikawa has a point. “I can’t argue with that logic. You did catch the volleyball after all.” The ring glints again. “Are you proposing?” 

“That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Since I caught the volleyball?” 

“Or I can propose this time, either way, there are wedding bells in your future.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
